


The Girl Next Door

by sunkelles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Demisexual Arya Stark, F/F, Femslash, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Sister-Sister Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:26:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4337426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya and Shireen grew up across the street from each other and have always been best friends. Arya’s a little (or a lot) in love with her, but doesn’t want to mess things up by telling her. </p><p>She messes things up anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl Next Door

Arya slumps down on the couch the moment she gets through the door of their house. She’s been at gymnastics practice for a solid three hours following school today, and she can certainly appreciate her couch whenever she’s done at the gym.

She spots Sansa in the kitchen and lets out a groan. She’d almost forgotten that it’s Labor Day weekend. That means company, which also means that she needs to take a shower and interact with other humans instead of collapsing on her bed. She groans as she forces herself off the couch, and groans even louder as she walks up the stairs towards the bathroom she shares with Bran and Rickon.

**  
**  


After she finishes her shower, she slips into a pair of red athletic shorts and a soft black t-shirt. She decides that it’s probably dressed up enough. It’s just going to be her family. And then of course they’ll be having some friend of Sansa’s from college, the Reeds, and Shireen’s family. She almost considers changing at the thought of Shireen, but decides against it. Shireen doesn’t care what she wears. She doesn’t even know if Shireen likes her.

A few minutes after plopping back down on the couch, Arya catches a glimpse of Sansa’s friend. The girl is tall, muscular and butch.

“This is Brienne Tarth,” Sansa says, “she’s my roommate at CU.” Judging from Sansa’s reaction, Arya’s thoughts must have read pretty clearly on her face.

“Friend, Arya,” Sansa says, “Margaery and I are still together.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Brienne says, a little awkwardly. Arya shrugs. It was a stupid assumption to make, but she won’t apologize for it. She looks at Brienne a moment, and notices that the other girl’s fairly attractive. She’s got a strong, Roman sort of nose, an athletic build, and bright, sparkling blue eyes. She reminds Arya a bit of Shireen, which is probably why she finds her attractive.

“Do you play any sports?” Arya asks. That’s her go-to ice breaker because most people who aren’t weird artsy people like Sansa have at least one answer to this question.

“I’m on the school rowing team,” Brienne says, “and I play intramural softball.”

“Cool,” Arya says, “I’m a gymnast, but I play some softball too.”

“Oh, Arya,” Sansa says, “Brienne is a big fan of Avatar.”

“Wait,” Arya says excitedly, “Avatar with the benders, or Avatar with the blue people?”

“Avatar with the benders,” Brienne says, “I love Avatar: The Last Airbender. I can’t stand the movie.”

“I feel you there,” Arya says. She and Shireen used to be obsessed with Avatar. She thought that Toph was the greatest character to ever walk the earth, and Shireen had identified pretty strongly with Zuko. He had the same sort of facial scarring that she did, and the fact that it was also caused by a parent also resonated with her. Of course, Zuko’s father gave it to him because he thought he was weak and was the world’s worst father. Shireen’s mother had a psychotic break and burned their house down, but Shireen thought it was close enough.

“Who is your favorite character?” Arya asks.

“Katara,” Brienne says, “but I always liked Suki as well.”

“Toph was my favorite,” Arya says, “but I can see why you and Sansa are such great friends. Katara was always her favorite.” They continue talking about bending styles and how amazing the third season was until Shireen and her family finally walk in. Arya’s never understood how they manage to be late to all of their dinners even though they literally live right across the street.

Shireen carries in a plate of cupcakes that she likely baked herself, and her dads follow closely behind. Davos enters first with an amiable smile, and Stannis follows with his neutral expression but somehow still manages to look like he wants to murder everyone. When Arya was little, before she knew either of their names she always referred to them as “nice dad” and “scary dad”, which Shireen has always laughed about. That’s probably why she’s kept it up so long. Shireen has a deep, musical laugh that Arya would do almost anything to hear.

Shireen sets the cupcakes on the coffee table and walks quickly over to where Arya and Brienne are standing, talking, and creating a roadblock in the hall.

“Hey, Arya,” Shireen says, “do you want to introduce me to your friend?”

“Shireen,” Arya says, “this is Brienne Tarth-”

“I”m a friend of Sansa’s from school,” Brienne finishes.

“And Brienne,” Arya says, “this is my best friend, Shireen Baratheon.”

Shireen beams at the introduction, and then sing-songs, “I made both lemon and chocolate cupcakes.”

“I love you so much,” Arya says. Sansa loves lemon cakes, and she’s glad that Shireen thought of her, but she’s even gladder than Shireen thought of her. It’s a bit selfish and a lot ridiculous, but Arya can’t help the warm feeling that comes over her.

“The potatoes are ready,” Arya’s mother says, and Arya knows that’s their cue to go to the table. Arya is always ready to devour large amounts of food.

* * *

**  
**  
After supper, Stannis and Davos stick around for a while before they make the long journey across the street. The Reeds stick around for a little bit longer, but they’re out of the house by ten. It isn’t too late when they start talking about sleeping arrangements. **  
**

Brienne takes the guest room that used to belong to Robb, and Shireen settles down in Arya’s room with her. Sansa pulls Arya aside before she goes upstairs.

“Are you ever going to feel Shireen how you feel about her?” she asks softly. Shireen’s already gone upstairs to start up their movie, so Arya isn’t too worried about her hearing. She is worried, however, about how Sansa figured it out.

“How did you know?” Arya whispers frantically.

“I’m your sister,” Sansa says, “your  _lesbian_  sister. I know these things.”

“Alright,” Arya says, admitting to herself that that makes a lot of sense.

“Are you going to tell her?” Sansa asks slowly, as if speaking to a small child.

“No,” Arya says, “I just- I can’t.”

“At least tell her that you’re gay,” Sansa whispers angrily.

“Alright, alright,” Arya says, “I’ll tell her something.”

“Good,” Sansa says, “I just want you to be happy.” Arya rolls her eyes as she walks up the stairs, but feels a little flattered that her sister’s taken such an interest in her love life.

They watch The Exorcist and crack jokes about how much they’re not scared, even though they kind of are, and afterwards they decide to talk to take their minds off demons and disgusting, green cinema vomit. Shireen talks a bit about how her cross country season is going while Arya talks about how her new bar routine is, and then they get on the topic of Brienne.

“You know,” Shireen says, “Brienne doesn’t really seem like Sansa’s typical friends.”

“Well,” Arya says, “she’s actually played a sport before, so that makes her different than two thirds of them.”

“Well, yeah,” Shireen says, “but she seems like a jock. Sansa’s an artsy choir kid lit major sort of type.”

“Brienne’s her roommate,” Arya says, “and I think that they’re into some of the same stuff. Brienne likes some of the same shows and stuff.” Arya’s sort of pulling stuff out of her ass at this point, but she decides that she ought to just take the plunge. She’ll eventually need to test the waters and tell Shireen that she’s gay. What better time is there than now?

“So Brienne’s kind of hot,” Arya says.

“Well, yeah,” Shireen says with a tiny little blush, “I think that I’d know that better than you would, though.”

“Hey,” Arya says semi-defensively, “I’m gay too. I can appreciate the female form. Especially Brienne’s, like, she’s got this gorgeous, Roman nose and these sparkling blue eyes-”

“Wait,” Shireen says, cutting her off, “you’re gay?”

“Um,” Arya says, not completely sure how to respond, “yes.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me before?” she says. There’s something about her tone of voice, something wet and hard that sounds like Sansa’s voice does before she cries. But Shireen doesn’t cry, at least not the way that Sansa does. Arya hasn’t seen Shireen cry since they were both first graders and Joffrey Waters told her that she looked like God’s failed experiment. Arya had punched him after that, and then gone to the principal’s office over it.

“It didn’t come up,” Arya lies, her throat starting to dry up. She isn’t sure how she envisioned this conversation going, but it wasn’t like this.

“I’m your best friend,” Shireen says, and there’s that cracked, watery quality again.

“Shireen, I was just nervous,” she says.

“Because you thought that I wouldn’t accept you? Me?” Suddenly Shireen’s voice turns from wet and cracky to angry and fiery.

“You were the first person I told I was a lesbian, Arya Stark,” Shireen says, “I-I thought-”

And then silence falls over them. Shireen looks to her, something deep and pleading in her bright blue eyes, but then she turns away and starts to walk out the door.

“Shireen- wait,” Arya says. She’s never been good with words. That’s always been Sansa’s thing, been Robb’s thing. She’s good with people, normally just gets them, but sometimes she’s terrible at understanding herself. Sometimes, she’s terrible at understanding Shireen too.

“Shireen, please,” Arya says, begs really. But Shireen doesn’t turn around as she opens the door, and then bounds down the stairs. Shireen is gone, enraged and betrayed and hurt all because of Arya and she doesn’t even understand what happened. She takes a deep breath, and holds her head in her hands.

She doesn’t tell herself not to cry. She used to think that crying was some sort of weakness, but that was before she balled her eyes out when her father died in that car crash. Arya lets herself cry and tries to steady her breath. When she’s stained her light blue pillow navy with her tears and doesn’t have any left to shed, she wipes the last ones away and takes a deep breath. She needs to talk to Sansa.

She makes her way down the hall, and knocks on her sister’s door.

“Come in,” Sansa says, and Arya opens her sister’s door. She doesn’t like asking for help, especially from her sister, but Sansa knows a lot more about being in a relationship with a girl than she does. Sometimes, she thinks that Sansa just knows more in general than she does. Arya sits down at the edge of her sister’s bed, and Sansa looks up from her copy of  _The Song of Achilles._

“Arya?” Sansa asks, “I thought that you and Shireen were having a sleepover.”

“We were,” Arya says. There’s a tight, guilty quality to her own voice, and Sansa sends her a concerned look as she sets the book down on her nightstand.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I was just talking to her,” Arya says, “I- I kind of told her that I had a crush on Brienne.”

Sansa sends her a perplexed look, and asks, “Why would you do that?”

“To tell her I was gay,” Arya says, though she’s not sure that gay’s the right word. She’s never liked any other girls, or any other boys for that matter. There’s only ever been Shireen.

“And to like, well, I wanted to tell Shireen about how attractive I find her,” Arya says.

“Brienne?” Sansa asks.

“No,” Arya nearly shouts, “Shireen! They look alike.”

“Brienne and Shireen look alike?” Sansa asks.

“A little,” Arya admits, “they’ve both got the same sparkly blue eyes and strong noses.”

“Did you ever think that you should just tell Shireen that you liked her?” Sansa asks, rubbing her head in her hands.

“No,” Arya says, “I just- what if she doesn’t like me?”

“Arya,” Sansa says, “I spent three years of high school dancing around Margaery because we wouldn’t just tell each other what we wanted. You need to communicate if you want any chance of this working. Margaery and I didn’t get together until I finally told her how I felt about her.”

“But what would you have done if she didn’t like you back?” Arya asks. She’s not normally the frightened one. Sansa was the one that was afraid of thunderstorms. Sansa was the one that was afraid of horses and sports and drowning, but now it seems like Arya’s the one who’s being cowardly.

“It would have sucked,” Sansa admits, “I would have been embarrassed and things would have been awkward for a long time, but I still would have had closure. It still would have been better than just pretending my feelings didn’t exist.”

Arya says, “but Shireen’s-”  _everything_ , she thinks, but she doesn’t say that out loud.

Instead, she says, “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Arya,” Sansa says softly, moving from her spot at the top of the bed to sit beside Arya at the bottom, “I’ve seen the way that she looks at you. I think that Shireen loves you as much as you love her.”

“I think that I’ve fucked everything up,” Arya says softly.

“Arya,” Sansa says, “of course you haven’t.”

“No,” Arya says, “I really think that I have. Shireen thinks that, well, she thinks that not only that I don’t like her, she thinks that I didn’t trust her enough to tell her I’m gay.” Sansa looks at her expectantly. Oh, Arya’s forgotten. Sansa doesn’t know that Shireen’s a lesbian.

“Shireen told me that she likes girls two years ago,” Arya groans.

“Oh my god,” Sansa mutters, “you- you’ve got to go over there _right_  now.”

“What?” Arya asks.

“You’re going to go explain this to her right now,” Sansa says, grabbing Arya and pulling her off of the bed.

“It’s twelve thirty at night,” Arya says.

“Shireen lives across the street,” Sansa says, “you need to do this  _now_.”

“Wait,” Arya says, “you think that I can fix this?” A feeling floods through her, like electricity. It’s like the feeling that she gets when she does a difficult stunt- an adrenaline rush. It’s the feeling that makes her unafraid of falling.

“Honestly,” Sansa says, “I’m not sure. But I think you have to try.” Not even Sansa’s negativity can quell the amazing feeling in her heart, the lightness that has replaced her guilt and sadness.

“I’m going to fix this,” Arya promises, half to herself and half to Sansa. She doesn’t even bother to put on a pair of shoes as she exits Sansa’s room, flies down the stairs, out the front door and across the street.

Arya rings the bell once, and then knocks a few times for good measure. She has to wait about a minute, but the minute seems like an hour as she nervously taps her foot and fiddles with her hair.

Davos opens the door and the look that he gives her could wilt flowers.

“Arya,” he says, almost like a curse word. If Davos is acting like this, she shudders to think of how Stannis must be.

“Can I talk to Shireen?” she asks quickly. He sends her a dark look.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea right now.” He tells her, icy and hard and not subtle at all about his anger.  

“Please,” Arya says, “I need to talk to Shireen.”

“Shireen is up there crying because of you, Arya Stark,” Davos snaps at her, “so I really don’t think that she wants to see you right now.”

“Shireen is crying?” Arya asks. She’s shocked, really. Shireen doesn’t cry. Arya only remembers Shireen crying once when they were friends, back in the first grade. She never cried once over what the assholes at school said after Arya punched Joffrey, she didn’t cry when she visited her mother in the mental institution, and she didn’t cry when she found out that her grandfather died in a car wreck. Arya’s really fucked up this time.

“Please,” Arya says, “I can explain- maybe I can make this better.” Davos’s gaze narrows, and then he turns his head inside, towards the couch.

“Stannis,” he says more softly, more in his normal tone of voice, “what do you think?” Stannis rises from the couch, a large, lean man , and he glares at Arya.

“You have five minutes,” he says. He glances shortly to the gun cabinet in the corner of the room, and Arya knows that it’s a warning, not a bluff or a coincidence.  
  


Arya takes a deep breath and says, “Thank you.” Davos opens the door, and Arya nearly sprints up the stairs to Shireen’s room. She knows that she should knock, but she doesn’t really think about it as she bounds breathlessly into Shireen’s room. The other girl’s curled up with her fluffy, colorful pillows and she looks confused as she realizes that it’s Arya in her room.

“Arya?” she asks.

Her confusion quickly turns to anger as she demands, “What are you doing here?”

Arya takes a deep breath, and says, “I need to explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” Shireen says icily, standing up to her full height. Sometimes, Arya forgets how like Stannis Shireen can be. Arya always gets Shireen’s sweet smiles and sarcastic comments, but now she’s getting the icy glares and imposing physique.

“I didn’t tell you that I liked girls because you’re the girl that I liked,” Arya says quickly, the words coming up like vomit, “I just- today Sansa told me that I should tell you I was gay, but I didn’t know how to do it without telling you that I liked you and I was nervous so I made up a story about liking Brienne.”

Shireen sends her a confused look.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” she asks.

“God, Shireen,” Arya says, “of course not. We- we’ve been best friends since we were seven. I didn’t want to lose that if you didn’t like me back.”

“So you really like me?” Shireen asks. There’s that tentative, shy little smile again and a little blush on her unscarred cheek. She looks almost like she did on the day that she and Stannis moved into that house ten years ago. Arya’s mother had them bring over brownies as a housewarming gift, and then Arya dragged her all around the neighborhood on an adventure.

At the end of the day, Shireen had asked her if she really wanted to be her friend, even with her face the way that it was. Her facial scarring had been worse back then, dark and new, like her face was still on fire in some ways. But Arya didn’t care, she thought that Shireen looked cool, and that she was the nicest person she’d ever met. She didn’t exactly say that, though.

“Of course,” Arya had said, “you’re loads more interesting than Sansa or her friends.” Shireen had smiled at that, and then it was set in stone. They were going to be best friends, and now here Arya is, risking all of that because she couldn’t help falling in love with her.

“Yes,” Arya whispers.

Shireen’s smile spans her entire face, and she grabs Arya’s hands.

“I like you too,” she says, and it feels like fireworks erupt in Arya’s chest. Arya squeezes Shireen’s hands, and thinks about kissing her. But then she remembers Shireen’s dads, and wonders if they would be more or less likely to murder her and hide the body underneath their deck if they walked in on her kissing their daughter.

“What am I going to do about your dads?” Arya asks softly.

Shireen sends her a smile and says, “Don’t worry. They’ll get over it.”

“I don’t know,” Arya says, biting her lip nervously, “I made you pretty sad.” Shireen actually laughs at that. Arya didn’t mean for it to be funny; she meant for it to be an apology.

Then, Shireen sends her a little smile and says, “But you make me pretty happy too.” Arya smiles at her again, and grasps her hand a little tighter. She doesn’t understand how she got this lucky, but she thinks that she might have to thank Sansa. Shireen giggles again, that cute little melodic sound and Arya groans a little to herself.

  
She’s _definitely_  going to have to thank Sansa.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I intended for Arya to be demi. 
> 
> Also, comments are always appreciated!


End file.
